Mistletoe
by Miss Katie Louise
Summary: Natasha comes home on Christmas Eve after a bad mission in Paris. A bit of fluff and sex with a slight Christmas theme


_A/N My first story in a while! It's kind of cheesy, so sorry about that. Would appreciate any tips as I'm a bit rusty and I know it's not the best fic. Please review and let me know what you thought :) It's summer holiday's here so I would love it if you sent me some prompts/story ideas and I'll try write them. Leave a review or PM me :) Hope you enjoy!_

She sat on the balcony, tea in hand, watching the snow fall over New York City. Her red hair was tucked behind her ears with a few curls hanging loose, too short to be tucked back. She sighed, staring at the city moving below her. It was well past 10pm but this was the city that never sleeps, if only they knew how close to full destruction their city was.

Natasha was lucky enough to get to spend Christmas in New York this year. It was December 24th and she'd arrived home from a mission in Paris, France only a couple of hours ago, and the wounds were fresh to prove it. She'd eventually taken down the target but not without a fight, and some injuries to go with. She was used to it though, it's in the job description. It didn't mean it hurt any less.

"How long have you been out here?" Natasha turned towards the direction of the voice. Standing in the doorway was Clint, still in his black training gear, Natasha couldn't help but notice the way the material clung to his muscles. "Not too long, I only got into New York at about 8pm." She spoke softly, taking a sip of her tea. "Why didn't you check in when you got back?" He dropped his bag and came to sit next to her. "I called Fury, didn't really feel like coming into the centre." He surveyed her body, looking at every obvious bruise and cut before nodding in understanding.

He sat down next to her, gently placing his hand on hers, not really sure where they stood at that point in time. Sure they'd fucked, but they'd never talked about it, it was just one of those things they used when a mission went wrong, or when they were frustrated. They'd never talked about it, and it was killing him inside because he loved her, but she would never let him in emotionally.

He sighed and looked up. Oh. Above him, clear as day, a sprig of mistletoe…. Well, it was now or never. "Tash?" She turned to him "Yeah?" "Look up…"  
"Oh…" Natasha stared at him for a few moments, then hesitantly leaned in. The moment their lips locked it was like a floodgate had been released, the passion and raw emotion came tumbling out. Clint gently wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her, she pulled her legs up around his hips and he carried her back into the apartment to his bedroom, placing her gently on the bed.

Hovering on top of her, he began to kiss tenderly down her jaw to her neck and across her collarbones, being ever so careful of the dark blue and purple bruises that marred her pale skin. He gently rubbed her thigh, bringing his hand up to slip under the soft fabric of her dress. She gasped as he brushed her heat. Her hands tugged on the waistband of his pants and he willing obliged, helping her pull them off. She could feel him hard pressed against her warm body. Very soon they were in nothing but underwear. "Clint.." her voice was breathy and needy as he started to press against her core. Quickly, he slipped past the thin fabric and slid a finger into her, causing her to jerk and moan at every movement. She pulled down his boxers in one smooth motion, causing them to now be naked against each other. Their lips locked in a slow, sensual kiss as Clint suddenly pushed his whole length into her.

Slowly they started to find their rhythm, their pace getting faster and faster as they came closer to the edge. Clint had one hand in her stunningly red hair with the other resting against her jawline as he kissed her passionately. His fingers were rough and calloused from the amount of use pulling back the bow string, but Natasha loved them because they were his, and he knew how to use them just right. Natasha's hands were occupied trying to find grip on his broad shoulders as the pace got faster and faster.

Soon, she couldn't take it anymore, screaming his name as she fell over the edge of pure bliss. He wasn't far behind, gripping Natasha tightly against him as he came, repeating her name over and over. He pulled out of her, but still refused to let her go, it wasn't often Natasha let her walls down enough to be hugged or held. Generally she would get dressed as soon as they finished and retreat back to her own room, but for once, she was letting him hold her. She started to drift off, her head resting against his bare chest as he gently played with the curly locks splayed out beneath her. It wasn't long before he too was sound asleep.

She awoke startled, going to grab her gun, panicking when she couldn't find it. "'Tasha?" Clint's sleepy voice pulled her back into reality, she wasn't in Paris anymore, she was in Clint's arms and she was safe. The red numbers on the alarm clock read 2am, sighing, she slid back against him to rest once more. "Hey Tash, you ok?" She nodded against his muscular chest. "Ok, well, Merry Christmas" Oh. Yeah. It was Christmas. Natasha hadn't properly celebrated Christmas for so long, she just kind of forgot about it. She was always the one to volunteer for missions over Christmas, she might as well, she didn't have anyone to spend it with. Until now. "Merry Christmas Clint" she spoke softly into his chest. "I love you" she froze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" she could hear the panic rising in his voice. He was afraid he'd just lost her. "No, it's ok. I love you too…." Clint squeezed Natasha closer to him, smiling as they both fell back asleep, white snow fluttering peacefully outside their window. It was going to be a good Christmas.


End file.
